<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Techno Meets Michael by cloakoflevitation</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30078153">Techno Meets Michael</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloakoflevitation/pseuds/cloakoflevitation'>cloakoflevitation</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Gen, No Beta – just me and the block men, Protective Ranboo (Dream SMP), the tiniest bit of angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:47:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30078153</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloakoflevitation/pseuds/cloakoflevitation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Technoblade is awkward. The kid is cute. Ranboo shows up. What else can I say.</p><p>Inspired by <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@chillytide/video/6938292926497754374?sender_device=pc&amp;sender_web_id=6901487225084855813&amp;is_from_webapp=v1&amp;is_copy_url=0">this tiktok</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>263</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Techno Meets Michael</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m just sayin’ it seemed a little weird.”</p><p>“Nah, it’s fine.” Phil looked over his shoulder long enough to shoot Techno a teasing grin. “You’re just paranoid.”</p><p><em> Him? Paranoid? </em> Between the two of them, Techno hardly considered himself to be the paranoid one. He muttered under his breath, “Sounds like you’re projectin’ your problems, old man.”</p><p>“I <em> heard </em> that.”</p><p>“You were meant to.” He was <em> not </em> meant to, but Phil didn’t call him out on the lie, just continued their long trek back home. Techno watched the ends of Phil’s cloak flutter as they walked, still turning his original thought over in his mind. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped moving until the sound of Phil’s footsteps crunching through the snow fell silent.</p><p>“You good, mate?” Phil had turned towards him, eyebrows raised curiously.</p><p>“Yeah…” Techno looked out over the ocean, back towards the direction they had come from, as if he could see across the water to Snowchester.</p><p>Phil reached up to tuck away a strand of hair that had escaped his hat. He pursed his lips and then sighed. “You know how the kid is about sides.” He was quiet for a moment, following Techno’s gaze across the ocean. “I don’t think he has the best idea of what we’re trying to do. Give it a few more meetings and I think he’ll ease into it.”</p><p>“Do you think we pressured him?” Techno absently pulled at his chestplate, readjusting the way it laid against his shirt.</p><p>“No, but…” Phil hesitated, and really, that told Techno everything he needed to know. “He doesn’t do the best with peer pressure. Or even the <em> appearance </em> of peer pressure.”</p><p>Techno hummed a noise of agreement, wondering how to best go about fixing the problem. Ranboo would make a good addition to the Syndicate, Techno wouldn’t have invited him if he thought otherwise, and Niki and Phil wouldn’t have agreed to let him join if they thought otherwise either. He wanted Ranboo to join; an organization needed members, after all. But he didn’t want to coerce the kid into anything. It didn’t make much sense to create an organization against tyranny only to then turn around and <em> force </em> people to join.</p><p>He’d thought he made it clear that participation was voluntary – after all, he’d said it was a separate thing from Ranboo living out in the arctic with them. Techno wasn’t going to evict the guy if he didn’t join. But the way Ranboo had acted in the meeting room, and particularly when they had all trekked out to Snowchester… it was concerning. He’d seemed more jumpy and nervous than usual, twisting his fingers together, shifting like he was unable to stand still, even disappearing for a little while at one point when they were speaking to Tubbo.</p><p>“Go talk to him.”</p><p>Techno blinked. “Heh?”</p><p>Phil chuckled. “I can see the wheels turning in your head from here. It’s just gonna keep bothering you. Go talk to him.”</p><p>He thought about it for a second. There wasn’t anything else on the agenda for the day, and he <em> would </em> keep thinking about it until he spoke to Ranboo… “Fine,” he relented. “Purely out of self-interest, so it’ll stop worryin’ me and the voices.”</p><p>“Right,” Phil agreed, smiling like he knew something Techno didn’t. “Purely out of self-interest.”</p><p>“What else would it be?”</p><p>Phil waved him off with another laugh, shifting his shoulders as he stretched out his wings. “Catch you later, mate.” Then he was in the air, and a moment later, Techno had to squint to make out his silhouette against the clouds overhead.</p><p>Techno watched him until he disappeared, then began walking back the way they had come. When he reached the edge of the glacier, he pulled out his trident and started back towards Snowchester, where they had parted ways with Ranboo and Tubbo and Niki.</p><p>“Now how am I supposed to talk to Ranboo about this, chat?” The wind roared in his ears, but the voices were <em> conveniently </em> inside his head, so it did nothing to prevent him from hearing them.</p><p>
  <b> <em>PHILZA BIRDZA</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>destroy Snowchester</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>E</em> </b>
</p><p>“Helpful as always,” he grumbled dryly, but he was accustomed to the rather useless nature of the voices at this point. Still, it left the issue of the conversation that awaited him once he found Ranboo. Neither he nor Ranboo were particularly fond of social interactions (it was something Techno liked about the guy), and he didn’t really know the best way to bring up the topic. He was well aware that most people found him intimidating, Ranboo included, and he’d never done much to dissuade anyone of the notion. It was going to make asking Ranboo if he had felt peer pressured earlier <em> without </em> the kid feeling peer pressured into answering <em> no </em> and giving Techno the answer he wanted to hear a bit difficult.</p><p>Somehow he didn’t see the conversation going very well. But it was too late to back out, he’d already made up his mind (and Phil would be a pain about it if he went back and said he hadn’t actually spoken to Ranboo). So onwards he went.</p><p>The water beneath him eventually turned to ice again, and he threw his trident once more and saw the chimney smoke from some of the buildings rising above the forest.</p><p>In the trees just outside Snowchester, he put his trident away. He wasn’t there to start any violence. Normally, he wouldn’t worry too much about openly carrying weapons and the appearance it could give, but considering that Snowchester apparently had nukes… it couldn’t hurt to tread a bit lighter.</p><p>He didn’t <em> sneak </em> towards what looked to be the main building, but it was a near thing. In L’Manberg (and most of the rest of the civilized world), he was a wanted criminal. He didn’t think that was the case in Snowchester, especially given how polite and civil the conversation with Tubbo had been earlier, but he wasn’t willing to unnecessarily risk anything. After all, Tubbo had been outnumbered earlier, when Niki and Phil and Ranboo were all present as well. Tubbo might have a change of heart, if he saw Techno on his own (although Techno thought it doubtful). All the same, he didn’t have his fighting armor (he just had his regular set) nor any potions. He wasn’t looking for a fight.</p><p>Snowchester was quiet.</p><p>There was a field of potatoes to his left, and he was surprised at how well Tubbo had managed to get them to grow, in such a cold climate. Of course, he remembered, lips pressed together into a thin line, <em> he </em> had been the one to teach Tubbo to grow potatoes, during the long nights spent in the depths of Pogtopia, planning a revolution.</p><p>But that had been a different time, a time when there had been a lot more trust to go around.</p><p>The wind tugged at his cloak, and he reached up to make sure the ties were still fastened at his neck. He pulled the edges tighter around himself and kept walking.</p><p>A zombie groaned somewhere on the other side of a building, and he thought maybe Ranboo was nearby, but when he turned the corner, the zombie was penned up, a sign put up on the wall next to him. No one else seemed to be around.</p><p>He passed the tunnel that Tubbo had shown them, leading from Snowchester to L’Manberg. Peering down through the narrow shute, he couldn’t see the other side.</p><p>Construction of some kind seemed to be under way towards one edge of the little settlement. Whatever was being built, it was <em> big. </em> Techno couldn’t make out what the building was supposed to be exactly, but he made a mental note to return and check up on it later. Just in case.</p><p>Something shifted in the trees, but after waiting several moments, there was no further movement. He couldn’t find anything in the area either, so he chalked it up to a stray skeleton or something of the like.</p><p>Ranboo didn’t seem to be in Snowchester, nor anyone else for that matter. He tried not to let the frustration get to him, despite the fact that it seemed the whole trip was going to amount to nothing more than wasted effort, and walked back through Snowchester once again. If he made it to his side of the settlement and still found no one, he told himself he’d call it a day and head home. Ranboo would wander back to his house at some point. He always did.</p><p>Near the main building, he heard something from one of the upper floors. He stopped and listened and then heard the noise again. Chances were it was probably just Tubbo… but it might have been Ranboo.</p><p>He took the steps up to the front two at a time and brushed the faint sprinkling of snow off his cloak. His shoes were going to track snow and water in – there was little he could do about that. He put his hand on the door handle and then remembered the nukes and decided to stop and knock. Appearances, after all.</p><p>There was no answer.</p><p>Slowly, he eased the door open. “…Tubbo? Uh… Ranboo?”</p><p>There was a heavy thump from the floor above him. His eyes narrowed, and he silently drew his sword. Against the far wall, he spotted a ladder leading to other floors. He slowly started to climb up, noting the trapdoor covering the opening above him.</p><p>Memories of climbing a ladder down into his basement to discover someone hiding below him, stealing his things, living in his walls echoed in his mind, and he shook his head slightly to dispel them. Now was not the time to think of such things.</p><p>At the top of the ladder, he waited, listening again. He wasn’t sure what to expect, so he didn’t know if he should try to ease the trapdoor open and sneak in or fling it open quickly to have the element of surprise.</p><p>He heard something that sounded like porcelain breaking and decided it was better to go in all at once. </p><p>Deep breath in, deep breath out. Sword up. <em> Three. Two. One.  </em></p><p>He threw the door open and jumped up, bending his knees slightly to get a bit of momentum to better propel himself to his full standing height, sword raised –</p><p>A blob of pink threw itself at his legs, and he twitched, but managed to catch himself from swinging his sword down in a fatal blow. He swore under his breath, adrenaline rushing in his ears. “Almost killed a child, chat.” He pressed his free hand to his chest over his racing heart and forced himself to take even, measured breaths. He was sure he was having a heart attack – he’d have to tell Phil later. (On second thought, if he didn’t want Phil to tease him relentlessly for the next decade, maybe it would be best to keep it to himself.) “Almost killed a child,” he repeated quietly, watching said child bump into his legs with a startled squeal and then run to a far corner of the room.</p><p>
  <b> <em>BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>b̳̽ę̈ɓ̻ề</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>MINI BLADE</em> </b>
</p><p>The child, a baby zombified piglin – how did it even <em> get </em> to the overworld? – stared at him with wide, round eyes, before glancing nervously at something to Techno’s right. He turned, still keeping the child in his peripheral vision, and saw a flower pot in fragments on the ground.</p><p>Well. That explained the noise.</p><p>“Uhhh…” He found himself at a complete loss of what to say or do. “…Hello?”</p><p>The baby piglin tilted its head. A few warbled sounds left its mouth, and after a second, Techno recognized the language. It wasn’t – the broken words didn’t make much sense, but Techno supposed children of… whatever age the child was weren’t the best at speaking just yet.</p><p>The voices in his head continued to scream things, but Techno ignored them. “Uh… ᚻᛖᛚᛚᚩ?” He frowned, trying to remember things he hadn’t thought about in a long time. “ᚪᚱᛖ  ᛁᚩᚢ  ᛚᚩᛋᛏ?” <em> Hello? Are you lost? </em></p><p>The child repeated, “ᚻᛖᛚᛚᚩ  ᚻᛖᛚᛚᚩ  ᚻᛖᛚᛚᚩ!” <em> Hello hello hello! </em></p><p>“Chat?” Techno’s voice was pitched too high, he could hear it, so he cleared his throat and tried to sound less nervous. “Any help here?”</p><p>
  <b> <em>TECHNO SCARED</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>ḅ̐l̪̕o̺̽o̤̊d̨̚</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>BABY BLADE</em> </b>
</p><p>“Exactly what I thought you’d say,” he grumbled. “Imagine being useful. <em> Imagine </em> being <em> useful. </em> Couldn’t be any of you, chat.”</p><p>The child took a few steps forward, and Techno fell silent, watching. It seemed afraid, despite the way it had nearly bowled Techno over when he came through the trapdoor. Careful to move slowly, Techno crouched down so he didn’t tower over the child, and it inched closer and closer.</p><p>Up close, the child seemed even smaller. Its head was the size of Techno’s hand, and Techno was sure his fingers could wrap all the way around the child’s arms. That was normal, he supposed, for children to be so small, but it’d been a while since he had been around any children long enough to really look at them. </p><p>It looked so <em> fragile. </em></p><p>The child held out one of its little hands, tiny fingers spread, tiny palm facing towards Techno. It asked something, but Techno couldn’t make heads or tales of the syllables. When Techno didn’t answer, it repeated the same thing, sounding distressed.</p><p>“ᛁᛏ×ᛋ  ᚩᚳᚪᛁ,” Techno soothed quickly, trying his best to offer the kid a reassuring smile. The last thing he needed was for the child to start crying. He’d <em> truly </em> have no idea what to do then. “ᛁᛏ×ᛋ  ᚩᚳᚪᛁ.” <em> It’s okay. </em></p><p>The child’s bottom lip quivered. “ᚩᚳᚪᛁ?” <em> Okay? </em></p><p>“ᛞᚩᚾ×ᛏ  ᚳᚱᛁ.  ᛁᛏ×ᛋ  ᚩᚳᚪᛁ.  ᛖᚠᛖᚱᛁᚦᛁᛝ  ᛁᛋ  ᚠᛁᚾᛖ.” <em> Don’t cry. It’s okay. Everything is fine. </em></p><p>The child grinned. The little hand that had been hovering in the air between them reached up and settled on one of Techno’s tusks. “ᛏᚩᚩᚦ!” <em> Tooth! </em></p><p>After a few curious pokes to the rest of Techno’s face (which Techno allowed purely out of shock), the child opened its mouth and grabbed one of its own tusks. It said something that Techno couldn’t understand because it spoke with its mouth open while still holding its tooth. Then the child dropped its hand and, presumably, repeated proudly, “ᛏᚩᚩᚦ!” <em> Tooth! </em></p><p>“Oh god,” Techno whispered to himself. “It’s adorable.”</p><p>Little hands reached for him again, and he sat backwards but ended up throwing off the balance of his crouch and landed on his backside, arms braced on the floor behind him. Preemptively, he warned the voices in his head, “Don’t start. Don’t even think about it.”</p><p>The child, unbothered by Techno’s attempts to move away, crawled right into his lap, using Techno’s thighs as a stepping stool for its little legs, and reached up to grab one of Techno’s braids.</p><p>“Heh? <em> Heh? </em> Why <em> me?” </em> Keeping his movements as careful and even as possible, he sat up straighter, hovering his hands just next to the child’s sides. He wasn’t sure how stable those little legs were (especially given the kid was standing <em> on him), </em> and children who took a tumble were notorious for crying.</p><p>There was a harsh pull on a chunk of his hair, and the child smiled. “ᛋᚻᛁᚾᛁ.” <em> Shiny. </em></p><p>For a moment, Techno went to gently pry the child’s hands out of his hair, but then he thought of broken bones and bruised knuckles and bloodstains. <em> (The only universal language is violence… and we’ve had that conversation </em> <b> <em>in the pit.)</em> </b> He was laughably stronger than the child, but he found himself unable to force the kid to let go of him. The irony was not lost on him. It might have been funny, even, if he wasn’t so terrified of hurting the kid.</p><p>It was just so small and so <em> very </em> breakable.</p><p>So Techno did not pull the child’s hands away. Instead, he reached up to his hair and felt for a braid. (He didn’t think about how easy it would be, to press bruises into innocent pink skin with little more than a touch.) He followed the braid down to the end and closed his fingers around the gold bead keeping his hair from coming unbraided. (He didn’t think of just how easy it would be, to snap the child’s wrists in half like toothpicks.) He pulled the bead out and presented it in an open palm. (He didn’t look at the child’s face, because he was afraid of who he would see staring back at him, with a bleeding nose and bloodied lip or explosion burns marring their face. <em> Tubbo, Tommy, Wilbur.) </em></p><p>“ᚷᚩᛚᛞ,” he croaked out, and winced at the way his voice caught. He tried again. “ᚷᚩᛚᛞ.” <em> Gold. </em></p><p>The child’s eyes lit up, and it greedily snatched the bead, clutching it in tiny hands. “ᚷᚩᛚᛞ,” it repeated. “ᛋᚻᛁᚾᛁ.” <em> Gold. Shiny. </em></p><p>“ᚠᛖᚱᛁ  ᛋᚻᛁᚾᛁ,” Techno agreed. <em> Very shiny. </em></p><p>The child crawled off Techno’s lap, idly wandering the room while staring at the bead in its hands. It got too close for comfort to the broken shards of pottery from the flower pot, and Techno swooped in to steer it away. He looked around the room but couldn’t find anything that would help clean up the mess.</p><p>
  <b> <em>help the child</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>E</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>TECHNO PROTECT</em> </b>
</p><p>Even though the voices hadn’t said anything about it, as Techno moved the broken pieces to the top of a bookshelf where the child wouldn’t be able to reach, he informed them, “I’ll just move these. I’d hate to step on them by accident.” Because that’s what he was doing, looking out for himself in the future.</p><p>When he went back to pick up the rest of the pieces, he found the child standing next to the last shards, staring up at him.</p><p>“ᛒᚪᛞ?” <em> Bad? </em></p><p>“Uh… no.” He repeated the word <em> no </em> again in piglin, just to be clear. “ᚾᚩ. I’m Technoblade.”</p><p>The child sniffled in a way that sounded suspiciously like a precursor to crying and insistently repeated, sounding more distraught, “ᛒᚪᛞ?” <em> Bad? </em></p><p>Oh. <em> Oh. </em> Techno’s eyes widened comically as he realized that the child was <em> not </em> addressing him as Bad Boy Halo. “ᚾᚩ, ᚾᚩ, ᚾᚩ.  ᛁᚩᚢ×ᚱᛖ  ᚾᚩᛏ  ᛒᚪᛞ,” he reassured the kid, crouching down next to it again. “ᛁᛏ×ᛋ  ᚩᚳᚪᛁ.” <em> No, no, no. You’re not bad. It’s okay. </em></p><p>Nonetheless, the child’s eyes welled up with tears, and when it reached its chubby little arms out, Techno was helpless to do anything but let the kid cling to him. The child shoved its head into the place where Techno’s neck met his shoulder, just above the edge of his chestplate. He could feel hands pressing against his side before fingers finally found where the edges of his shirt stuck out of his armor and grabbed onto the material.</p><p>Gingerly, Techno stood up from the floor, holding the child against him with one hand. He used the other to grab the remaining pieces of pottery and deposited them on the shelf.</p><p>He didn’t know what to do with the child, but he could hear the sniffles. Setting the child down seemed like it would only make things worse, so he paced slow, even steps across the room and hummed low, soothing noises.</p><p>There was a bed in one corner. A table and chairs sat across the room. There were some painted wooden blocks on the floor, and the bookshelf had tons of photos of the child in picture frames. But the walls – the walls were covered in drawings, in the tell-tale style of small children. There was one of a house and one of what might have been a fox, another of a chicken, one that seemed to be entirely scribbles, and one of three stick figures in what might have been a family portrait.</p><p>The child slowly calmed down.</p><p>Looking around the room, Tcehno realized with absolute certainty that this child was not lost from the nether. This child <em> belonged </em> to someone. Maybe Tubbo, given it was in Snowchester, but Techno thought he’d heard rumors that Captain Puffy had a house in Snowchester as well. And it made sense – this piglin baby wouldn’t be the first child that she had adopted.</p><p>“ᚻᚩᛘᛖ?” He asked, then realized the child probably already was <em> home. </em> Instead, he corrected, “ᛘᚩᛘ?  ᛞᚪᛞ?” <em> Mom? Dad? </em></p><p>“ᛈᚪᛈᚪ.” <em> Papa. </em></p><p>That settled it then. “ᚹᛖ×ᛚᛚ  ᚷᚩ  ᛏᚩ  ᛈᚪᛈᚪ,” he declared. <em> We’ll go to papa. </em> He walked over to the ladder, thought about how far of a drop it would be, and carried the child down in his arms. When they were safely back on the main floor, he tried to set the child down, but the kid clung tighter to him and whined. So Techno pulled his cloak around the kid’s little body and walked out into the cold air outside.</p><p>The sun was sliding across the sky, closer to the horizon, but Techno reckoned they should have enough time to make it back to L’Manberg and find Captain Puffy before dark. He felt the child shift slightly in his arms, and, looking down at it, he knew even if they didn’t find Captain Puffy before dark, nothing bad would happen to the kid. He wouldn’t let it.</p><p>The child started up a sort of chant, mostly consisting of nonsense syllables and the word, “ᚩᚢᛏᛋᛁᛞᛖ.” <em> Outside. </em></p><p>They passed the potato farm.</p><p>The child reached up, grabbing blindly at Techno’s face with its hand. Techno looked down and raised an eyebrow. The child started up the chant again, and when it stopped, Techno hummed and murmured, “ᛁᛖᛋ,  ᚩᚢᛏᛋᛁᛞᛖ.” <em> Yes, outside. </em></p><p>That seemed to be what the child wanted because it giggled like Techno had said the funniest thing in the world and then started up the chant again.</p><p>As they were nearing the tunnel, Techno saw movement amongst the bubbles and the soul sand. He shifted the child to his left side and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. Just in case.</p><p>The figure that emerged was Ranboo.</p><p>Ranboo took one look at the two of them, and then he was running over, skidding to a stop just in front of them, eyes blown wide with something like fear etched across his face.</p><p>“The kid’s not mine,” Techno blurted out, not sure what else to say. The child wiggled and Techno tightened his grip slightly, making sure the kid didn’t drop. He wasn’t sure why Ranboo seemed so afraid – it was only a baby after all, albeit a zombified piglin one. It clearly wasn’t hurting Techno, and even if it tried, it could hardly be considered a threat. </p><p>Techno shifted the child in his arms and angled his body away from Ranboo, in case the eye contact from the child was upsetting him.</p><p>Ranboo bristled at the movement, and to Techno’s great surprise, <em> drew his sword. </em></p><p>
  <b> <em>t̝̑ŕ̫a̻̽i̧̐ţ̨ø̊r̼̃͡</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>protect the child</em> </b>
</p><p>Techno took a step back, ignoring the overwhelming urge to draw his own weapon. “Ranboo, Ranboo! I’m takin’ him back! It’s fine!”</p><p>Ranboo pressed the hand not holding his sword against his chest, over his heart, and grabbed the fabric of his shirt, expression furious and scared and <em> pained. </em> “He’s <em> mine!” </em></p><p>Oh. OH.<em> Oh. </em> The pieces clicked together in Techno’s mind all at once. He lowered the child down carefully, watching it run to Ranboo, and it wrapped its arms around one of Ranboo’s legs with a delighted shriek.</p><p>Ranboo’s sword was immediately put away, and he threaded his fingers through the child’s hair, holding it close against him. He watched Techno the whole time, body tensed to spring at the slightest movement.</p><p>Pointedly, Techno raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, away from the sword at his waist and the axe and trident on his back, making it abundantly clear that he had no plans to draw them. “I was lookin’ for you and found the kid,” he explained in a low voice. “It was sayin’ <em> papa </em> and I thought it was Puffy’s. I was gonna take it to her.”</p><p>Ranboo sucked in a shaky breath. The pale side of him looked grayer than normal, and the dark side had taken on a faint purplish tinge. The child pulled at his clothing and made an insistent noise, and then Ranboo gathered it in his arms and held it against his chest, one hand around its body, the other cradling its head against his shoulder.</p><p>“Okay.” Ranboo breathed out the word, and Techno wasn’t sure who the reassurance was meant towards. A strangled noise left Ranboo’s throat, and it sounded like laughter and a sob all at once. “It’s okay.”</p><p>Something that felt like guilt settled on Techno’s shoulders. “Sorry about that,” he said quietly, reaching up to pull apart the loose braid in his hair that was missing the bead at the end. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”</p><p>“No, it’s …yeah.” Ranboo hugged the child closer and took a moment to press his cheek against the top of the kid’s head. He sighed heavily. “I’m just glad he’s okay.” </p><p>Silence hung awkwardly in the air with the snowflakes, and then Ranboo started walking back towards the building Techno had found the child inside. Ranboo cleared his throat, and his voice sounded too forced to be conversational. “So – you said Michael said papa?”</p><p>Before Techno’s brain caught up with his mouth, he asked, “Michael?”</p><p>“That’s his name.”</p><p>The corner of Techno’s mouth quirked up in the beginnings of a smile. “Good name. Good kid.” He shrugged a shoulder and watched the other two from the corner of his eye. “Uh yeah, he said papa. Or, sort of.”</p><p>“His first word,” Ranboo whispered under his breath. “Wait – sort of?”</p><p>As if to prove he could do it, Michael picked his head up from Ranboo’s shoulder long enough to say, “ᛈᚪᛈᚪ  ᚻᚩᛘᛖ.” <em> Papa home. </em></p><p>Ranboo murmured a quiet, “Mhm,” to Michael, but still kept looking expectantly at Techno, waiting.</p><p>It should have occurred to him sooner that Ranboo didn’t know he could speak piglin, but before he could come up with something to say and continue to keep that fact private, Ranboo’s eyes widened. “Wait… can you – do you speak… what he does?”</p><p>Techno flicked his ears and walked up the steps ahead of Ranboo to open the door for him. It wasn’t that he was <em> hiding </em> the fact that he was part piglin. After all, looking the way he did, it would be a little hard to keep that a secret. But he also didn’t go around advertising his childhood or offering up stories from his past either. Most people knew he was part piglin, but not many knew exactly what that entailed.</p><p>Ranboo walked past him into the house. “I just – could you teach me?”</p><p>“Heh?”</p><p>“We’re gonna teach him Common but I want – I mean, if you can speak – if I could learn –” He shifted Michael from one hip to the other and looked away. “Or not. I don’t want to bother you.” He grimaced. “Sorry, shouldn’t have asked.”</p><p>“I…” Techno blinked. “I do speak piglin,” he admitted, not quite meeting Ranboo’s gaze for more reasons than one. “I could… uh… yeah. I could teach you.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>When Techno looked up, there was so much hope in Ranboo’s expression, he couldn’t say anything but, “Sure.”</p><p>“I – ” Ranboo looked down at the kid in his arms and hugged him closer, closing his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them again, he looked a second away from crying. “I appreciate it, more than you know. <em> Thank you, </em> Technoblade.”</p><p>Techno took a step backwards, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, don’t mention it.” When Ranboo started to say something else, Techno pleaded, “No, really, don’t mention it.”</p><p>A startled laugh came from Ranboo’s mouth, and Techno was glad to see he no longer looked like he was leaking emotions everywhere.</p><p>“I wanted to talk to you about something, but…” Techno took another step back, hand on the doorknob. “It can wait.”</p><p>“You sure? I have to feed Michael and put him down, but then we could talk?”</p><p>“No, that’s – Phil’s expectin’ me. We can talk later, it’ll keep.”</p><p>It was muffled by Ranboo’s shoulder, but Techno managed to hear Michael say, “ᛋᚻᛁᚾᛁ.” <em> Shiny. </em></p><p>“Oh uhh… I gave your kid some gold.” He was already through the doorway, pulling his trident from his back.</p><p>“You – what?”</p><p>“A bead. Just so you know.” He walked down the steps and called over his shoulder, “Don’t need it back.”</p><p>He heard Ranboo say something about choking hazards and internally winced. There was a reason he didn’t like children; they were so very killable, in a million and one ways, most of them accidental.</p><p>“Thank you.” Ranboo and the child stood in the doorway, cast in a golden glow by the evening sunlight.</p><p>Techno ignored the sentiment in Ranboo’s voice, ignored the weird feeling it caused in the space behind his ribs.</p><p>He threw his trident and began the long journey back home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>lowkey thinking about writing a sequel with Phil meeting Michael? or more Techno featuring Tubbo this time? any thoughts?</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>